


Just tired.

by Okkk



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Eating Disorders, Fucked Up, Other, Trigger Heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 08:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13383666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okkk/pseuds/Okkk
Summary: Ok this is kind of a way to get my feelings out kinda fic so it's not fabulous or anything. It's kinda shit just like the whole situation/vibe in the actual fic so um ya bye.





	Just tired.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok this is kind of a way to get my feelings out kinda fic so it's not fabulous or anything. It's kinda shit just like the whole situation/vibe in the actual fic so um ya bye.

He’s got a day off. He hasn’t had a day off in months although he can’t exactly say he’s pleased about it. It just means he has more time to think and hate, hate himself and everything else but mostly himself for all the shit he’s done. As soon as he wakes up, he knows what he’s going to do, he’d known it for the whole week ever since they’d been told they could have the day off. It was a jaded miracle.

Running on autopilot, he splashes water on his face, tugs his shoes and jacket on and leaves the house with 30 dollars in his pocket. It should be enough. Walking to the nearest Walmart, which is about 3/4 of an hour away, he spends the time thinking about what he’ll buy. When he gets there, he shoves whatever he can into the trolley all the while calculating the cost and calories. What does it matter anyway? It’s all going to come back up anyway. 

As he carries a bag in each hand full of food that he knows could potentially deteriorate his health if he carries on this way, he thinks about why he’s doing this to himself and wonders if he could just forget it. Dump the food in a trash can and save himself the lethargy that’s bound to come after he’s done but he doesn’t do any of that. He carries on walking and walking, self hatred thoughts filling his head while appreciating the occasional cold breeze and blue sky. It was actually a nice day. 

He trudges home and dumps all of the food on the sofa. Filling a jug with water and plopping a glass next to it, he plugs on his flat screen and flicks to a random channel. He slumps down on the sofa and grabs the food. 12 cookies. Chug some water. Pizza slice, chew and chug, chew and chug. Three bags of chips and 3 bars of chocolate. When he reaches the grapes, he almost laughs hysterically. Here he was, feeding himself all the junk food in the universe and then trying to level it out with a handful of grapes. He stuffs those into his mouth and gets started on whatever else is stuffed into the second bag. It doesn’t even matter. At this point, his stomachs getting full but it’s not enough so he carries on eating. It’s never enough his brain mockingly says back at him while he chugs the last of his water down. 

He stares in a daze at the television while he sits there, full to the brim and just about bursting. Pushing himself up off the sofa and letting the mound of wrappers fall to the floor like some sort of fucked up confetti, he makes his way to the toilet. Once there, he doesn’t even waste two seconds before leaning over and pushing his fingers down. It comes up straight away of course. He’s gotten so good at it that he knows it’ll be gone in 10 minutes. Part of him wants to stop and just fucking slump to the floor and sob until he’s hoarse but the bigger part of him wants that euphoria of getting every single thing out of his stomach. Sure, he can’t get rid of the shitty things he’s done or the shitty thoughts he has but he can do this. He’s good at doing this whole hurting yourself and not giving a single fuck and yeah he knows he could die of a cardiac arrest at any minute but somehow, that makes it better. He can’t be bothered to care anymore. Feeling numb is so much more beautiful because it means he’s invincible. Even Mr White can’t break this wall down. 

15 minutes later and he’s still throwing up food but he can’t. He doesn’t have any energy anymore. His chest is aching and his knees are wobbling as he finally, finally stands up and rinses his mouth and hands. He flushes the toilet twice and then lie’s back down on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling and ignoring the slight crunch of the wrappers on the sofa as he moves about a bit. The TV sound is just a soft hum and Jesse feels himself falling asleep knowing that when he’ll wake up, it’s going to start all over again. From one addiction to another, he finally understands why his mom fucking hates him. He’s a stupid failure and he knows it now. Knows why everyone around him treats him like shit too. He deserves every single bit of it and more.


End file.
